


The Many Names of Melodrama

by stratusdreams



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Virtue Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 06:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30135042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratusdreams/pseuds/stratusdreams
Summary: Tieflings are known to choose their names. Sometimes, it takes some trial and error.





	The Many Names of Melodrama

**Author's Note:**

> A little short featuring my tiefling College of Lore bard, Melodrama!

When Jiri Bonnaire first adopted the little pink tiefling girl, she wanted to be called Laika.

Laika was a heroic princess in a storybook Madame Marianna had read at naptime. Naptime was perhaps the only hour the orphanage was truly quiet. As little Laika settled down for sleep, she listened to Madame Marianna intently. Her daydreams wandered to fantastical places, where she slayed dragons and danced in taverns and saved the world from the forces of evil. The infernal-blooded girl wanted to be a hero, too. 

“Call me Laika,” she told Jiri when he picked her up on the day of her adoption.

“Laika is a wonderful name,” Jiri responded. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and picked her up, giving her a hug. “I love you very much, Laika.”

Soon, Laika learned of others like her -- at five years old, she now had a name for her race: tieflings. It was quite nice to know what she was, rather than just being referred to as an “infernal child” by Madame Marianna (half affectionately, half suspiciously). She found out that tieflings often chose their own names, and these names symbolized the tiefling’s very spirit. Laika thought long and hard about her name. She thought of how she wanted to make others happy, to hear their laughter and listen to their sweet songs. She went to her father.

“Call me Joy,” she told Jiri as he cleaned a glass.

“Joy is a wonderful name,” Jiri responded, leaning down to ruffle her hair. “I love you very much, Joy.”

When Joy was ten, her father took her to a festival, where the fair folk danced among the people of Hidren. Their skin seemed to sparkle with the light of a thousand diamonds; the normal population who was touched by them were more beautiful than anyone Joy had ever seen. She wanted to encapsulate that impossible beauty. That night, when father and daughter returned home, Joy spoke to her guardian.

“Call me Glimmer,” she told Jiri as he doffed his coat.

“Glimmer is a wonderful name,” Jiri responded, hugging her tight. “I love you very much, Glimmer.”

When Glimmer was fifteen, her father took her to a splendid play. A half-elf bard sang from the stage; his tales were funny and heartwarming, tragic and dark. Glimmer looked down at her pamphlet. 

_Jerodin’s Guide to Tragedy and Triumph: Seven Tales of Melodrama._

The tiefling’s attention was pulled back to the stage. The bard’s voice was perhaps the loveliest thing she’d ever heard. Every note was filled to the brim with emotion, from melancholy to mania, loneliness to love. A single tear trickled down her cheek as she watched him perform, and she wept in pure awe as she saw others react the same way. To move people beyond logic and reality, to show them the beauty and fluidity of emotion, to touch them -- she realized that this was what she wanted to do.

When they returned home, she turned to her father and spoke, diamond-like tears still brimming her cerulean eyes.

“Call me Melodrama,” she told Jiri as he gazed at her.

“Melodrama is a wonderful name,” Jiri responded, embracing his daughter and stroking her bright blue locks. “I love you very much, Melodrama.”

She pulled away and wiped a tear from her eye with a smile. “Melodrama Marigold -- after your favorite flower, dad. Mello for short.”

“A truly beautiful name,” her father remarked. “Like music to my ears, little one.”

When she was twenty, Melodrama decided to leave home. Her father told her stories not unlike the strong-willed Princess Laika’s; he was once a powerful bard who wielded sword and song in tandem, but injuries and age had forced him to retire. Melodrama wanted to bring her father stories of her own.

As she pulled her backpack tight over her shoulders, Jiri hugged her tight, tighter than he’d ever held her. He stepped back. His keen gray eyes were full of warmth and pride. “I love you very much, Melodrama.”

“I love you too, dad.” Her voice cracked and she nearly choked on the words.

“Show the world what it means to be a bard, darling,” he said. “Show them that emotion is not something to fear. It is something to embrace.” He smiled then. “I can think of no better person for the task.”

With that, Melodrama stepped out the door, into the wide world. She took out a map and examined it closely. She’d marked Yertberg with an X. It was her father’s hometown, where he’d begun his adventure.

As she traveled out of Hidren and onto the dusty road, Melodrama glanced to the sky. Every name had brought her here, to her first true quest. _I won’t fail you, dad. I’ll teach every person I meet a new song. I’ll tell stories that’ll make them cry and laugh at the same time. And most of all… I’ll make you proud._


End file.
